Old Mister Barry

by James von Dielingen

Old Mister Barry

Was only half-fairy

With a wand that was only half-magic

His right-side immortal

Onlookers would chortle

His left-side was frail, old, and tragic

The Troll

by James von Dielingen

Situated atop my credenza

Was a troll with mild influenza

With cigar in his mouth he did grin

Thinking of just how to begin

With a dull and serrated knife

He threatened to shorten my life

He grinned and let out a cackle

And lunged at me for a tackle

I ducked to avoid the impact

For I didn’t know how else to act

His leap launched him over my head

Had he hit me I’d surely be dead

He slammed his head into the table

And weebled and wobbled, unstable

Such a racket emerged from his gob

That my poor eardrums began to throb

He screamed and stamped his feet

And threw his small blade in defeat

For his noggin I brought him some ice

He thought that was awfully nice

The troll and I soon became friends

But that’s not how this story ends

The troll now protects my house

From vermin like raccoon or mouse

I ought to feel so greatly blessed

To have such a protective guest

But, when friends come over to see me

The troll sometimes pretends to be me

Then threatens to stab or fillet

And scares all my company away

Judah's Camel Ride

by James von Dielingen

Judah DePriest

Went to the Middle East

To ride through the desert by camel

He wanted to sit,

And avoid camel spit

On the back of that knock-kneed brown mammal

He expected some grace

On that arid dune race

Just like the Tauntaun ridden by Hamill

But he felt like a chump

On top of that hump

While he ground away all his tooth enamel

Thump!

by James von Dielingen

If ever you’re wanting to jump

Just think of the terrible bump

Awaiting you all

At the end of your fall

You'll die with a horrible thump!

Prison

by James von Dielingen

There’s something that I must say to you

For fear you might never have learned

About what a life of crime can do

When your last citation is earned

Prison, you see, is not that much fun

You’re constantly locked up and watched

You can’t leave your block till your sentence is done

Good behavior can never be botched

No punching of necks or kicking of shins

No shivving is ever allowed

No selling cigars, no stabbing with pins

No yelling “Fire!” into a crowd

No cutting off fingers or shredding of faces

No biting, fish hooking, or hanging

No gauging, no smacking, no whipping with laces

No kidney punches or head banging

No laundry escapes or faking of ills

No shoveling under the wall

No soft downy pillows or other such frills

No, not any comforts at all

The moral, today, of my ill written warning

Should be quite simplistic to see

If ever you wake mischievous in the morning

Remember this warning from me

Don’t break the law, whatever you do,

The results will never be good.

Even if you aren’t caught, you may still go “Boo-hoo!”,

‘Cause your conscience will sadden your mood.

Be a good person and obey the law

It isn’t that difficult to do.

Unless it’s your taxes that pulled the last straw

‘Cause I can’t figure ‘em out, can you?

The Wonderful Thing

by James von Dielingen

I’m marching through the jungle

Hunting a wonderful thing

I’m hoping to discover the

Wonderfulness it will bring

At every turn and twist

It dodges, jukes, and zips

I’ve armed myself to the gills

With nets, guns, traps, and whips

I spy the wonderful thing

Way up in the highest tree

I try to steady my aim

But it deftly eludes me

It has four arms for climbing

And four wings come out of its back

It has two fins and two flippers

For escaping a water attack

Four legs adorn its bottom

As well as a wound up coil

And under an arm grows a shovel

For digging around in the soil

Two horns jut out from its skull

And two more stick out of its face

A squirty mouth shoots smelly black liquid

That gets all over the place.

I chase it through the trees

And down on the jungle floor

It jumps into the water, and

I follow ‘til I can no more

I ache from head to toe

From all the running it took

To chase it ‘til it stopped, and

 I sneak close to get a good look

I creep along the jungle floor

Carrying only my net

But soon I stop and gander

Thoughts of capture I soon forget

For right in front of my eyes

In a tiny jungle den

Crouches the wonderful thing with food

For its wonderful children

It has three pouches on its front

And two more on its back

And each and every pouch contains

A wonderfully tasty snack

A trunk sits in the corner

Made of leaves and stems and bark

The thing pulls from it a box of glowworms 

To shed some light on the dark

Both mouths on the wonderful thing

Began to sweetly coo

And the duet makes the children sleepy

Soon I am sleepy, too 

I drop the net, the guns,

And every whip and trap

Instead I grab my camera

And pictures I soon snap

I’m marching through the jungle

Photographing some wonderful things

I’m happy to have discovered

The wonderfulness that they bring

Wendell the Vampire Crasher

by James von Dielingen 


Hello, my name is Wendell, I work in the museum. 

I found this invitation cleaning out the mausoleum. 

It says there is a shindig here for Vampires of the night. 

I don't know what a vampire is, but I came tonight in spite. 

I hope you do not mind that I crashed your little party. 

I tried to be on time but ended up a little tardy. 

So what exactly is a vampire? Is it something I should know? 

Is a vampire cute and cuddly with a warm inviting glow? 

Is a vampire moist and smelly like a teen’s athletic sock? 

Or is it grand and complex like an antique cuckoo clock? 

Okay, I get it, I wasn't invited and you want me to go, 

But, it's been so long since I've been out for anything, you know? 

Oh my, you're rather friendly! Whoa! Keep those teeth in check! 

What? What is it? What? Is there something on my neck? 

Pimples

by James von Dielingen

There’s a pimple on my neck.

There’s a pimple on my back.

Oh, what am I to do

When I look an utter wreck?

Well, I guess I better pack

And take off to Peru.

There’s a pimple on my lip.

There’s a pimple on my knee.

Oh, why does life hate me?

I could take a little trip 

To the Mediterranean Sea

Until I’m pimple free.

I popped the pimple on my neck.

I popped the pimple on my back.

That’s what I chose to do.

I’m keeping all my zits in check

With a firm pinching attack.

Now, I’m covered in pimple goo.

Ode to a Tattoo

by James von Dielingen

I rubbed so hard it made my skin red,
the tattoo I got last night before bed.
That stamp of black and green stained skin,
planted on my back by savage pin.

Had I known what I had done before bed,
I may not have scrubbed it until I bled.
Yet, there it stood, that permanent sign,
that I must have had a bit too much wine.

To the doctor I sped to have it removed.
He poked and dug and laser-ed and smoothed.
My skin came out fine, all ivory and clean.
I wiped my brow hoping no one had seen.

At home I took a load off in my chair,
Careful not to lean back and then tear
That skin soft and tender, fresh from the clinic.
My best friend laughed, for he's a big cynic.

When had I gotten that permanent paint?
Had I finally lost all sense of restraint?
It had to have been when I wasn't coherent
But the reason has yet to be made apparent.

I'll take a shower now, for I feel it is time
To wash myself clean from my back stamping crime.
But wait, what do I see right under my nose?
It's another tattoo there betwixt my toes!

Elsie May and Betty Sue

by James von Dielingen

Elsie May and Betty Sue were fighting over a pickle.

Elsie May thought Betty Sue was being rather fickle.

That fresh, plump gerkhin was the greatest pickle Elsie'd ever seen.

She thought it's bumps were perfect and was the loveliest shade of green.

Betty Sue thought Elsie May had to have seen one better,

whether by itself or fried up wrapped in flour, egg, and cheddar.

Elsie May and Betty Sue fought day and night and then

Their heads conjoined together like a pad and ballpoint pen.

For their new bright idea they both chose to charge a nickel.

They froze that sucker and many more and dubbed it Picklesicle.